


Pushed Down, Gently

by wrabbit



Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)
Genre: Breathplay, Comment Fic, Community: shkinkmeme, Consent Play, D/s, Dom!Watson, Hardwicke!Watson, M/M, Oral Sex, Patronizing Humiliation Kink, Prompt Fic, Rough Sex, sub!Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:27:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrabbit/pseuds/wrabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I knew you could take that much. You're doing beautifully, Holmes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pushed Down, Gently

**Author's Note:**

> This may read as dub con, although the idea behind it is that it is consensual and Watson is playing a role for Holmes.

"Holmes?"

Holmes glanced up at the sound of his name with an idea forming in the back of his mind that it wasn't the first time he had heard it called. Watson was sitting at the desk they shared, watching him with his chin set in his hand, a pen dangling between his first and second fingers.

"Yes?" Holmes asked him. He had been contemplating the dead fireplace, cold but unwilling to release the fragile network of intellectual threads he had been teasing out long enough to light a fire. They fell, severed, and floated into nothingness.

"Could you not hear me?"

Holmes shook his head. "No."

"Well," Watson replied amiably. "Come over here, then."

He stood up and leaned back against the desk as Holmes collected his limbs, stretching his arms above his head. He walked over to stand in front of Watson. It was nearly dark. The sky was purple and navy blue between the curtains, but Watson had not yet lit the lamp. Holmes wondered how long he had been watching him.

He took Holmes gently by the upper arm and pulled him forward. Holmes stepped easily into Watson's space, tilting forward as he unconsciously reached for the warm, smoky scent of him. He breathed in sharply when the first whiskery kiss landed on the side of his neck. His knees grew numb, swaying and ready to collapse like a flimsy paper box as his balance was tenderly undermined by unpredictable kisses and sucking bites across the skin under his jawline. A small sound escaped his throat.

Watson pulled back and his grip on Holmes's arm to tug him downwards. Discombobulated by the attention to his throat, Holmes went down easily at the gentle direction. An inkstained thumb rubbed the abraded skin under Holmes's jaw and he shivered, pressed his face into Watson's thigh against the wool of his tweed trousers to breathe in the smell there, the scent of stability and steadfastness.

Watson let go of Holmes's arm to work open the buttons of his trousers and pants while Holmes watched, pulling the fabric down to release his cock and testicles. He slid one hand into Holmes's hair as he stroked himself lightly with the other. 

His throat drying with nervousness that caused him to break out in a sweat, Holmes leaned back against the gentle pressure applied to the back of his head.

"Come on," Watson said quietly, a patient smile crinkling the skin around his eyes.

The steady encouragement of Watson's fingers on Holmes's head guided him further than he felt capable of going as he placed a hand on Watson's hip and took the head of Watson's cock being held out for him into his mouth. The corners of his eyes teared up under the strain and Holmes tried to stop himself from choking by swallowing convulsively around Watson's cock, silky and heavy against his tongue.

In response to the distressed sound Holmes made in his throat when his glans penis slid past the limit of what Holmes could bear silently, Watson stopped pulling, gentling his hairline with dizzying, circling fingertips instead. "There you are," he said. "I knew you could take that much. You're doing beautifully, Holmes."

Holmes didn't feel like he was doing beautifully. He sucked as much as he could with his mouth gaping around Watson's erection as it swelled in his mouth, saliva easing the process but not by enough. He tried to focus on the comforting smells of musk and smoke, and Watson, as he struggled to hold him inside.

Watson's ministrations in his hair, his fingers and nails traveling over his skull were a featherlight counterweight that kept him from tumbling over the edge of gagging as Watson began to push and pull in a gentle but inexorable rhythm. The ligaments of his jaw were hurting, but he was careful to keep his teeth from grazing Watson's skin while Watson fucked his mouth, digging his nails into Watson's thighs while fingertips traced patterns over his scalp, thumbs grazed the skin behind his ears.

Watson hissed suddenly when Holmes slipped while he was trying to swallow the saliva in the back of his throat and his teeth scraped carelessly over Watson's foreskin as he slid out. "Careful, Holmes!"

Holmes gulped air, his voice rough as he clenched his knees with both hands. "I'm sorry. Please. It hurts."

He looked up. Watson's expression softened with compassion. "I know it does," he said. "But you're doing so well, my dear." 

"I..." Holmes gasped as a socked foot nudged his forgotten erection, the pool of heat there suddenly spilling throughout his body, warming his limbs and making his cheeks burn as Watson felt him through his pants and trousers with his toes.

"Be good," Watson said, leaning back on both feet again. "You're almost done." His face was a picture of doctorly concern as he signaled Holmes to continue before he had recovered from that casual examination of his groin. 

Holmes gagged again at the renewed stretch. He had to pull himself together again quickly, hold on to his composure when Watson groaned and his pace grew painfully short and staccato. Holmes could feel drool down his face when Watson didn't retreat enough to allow him room to swallow, murmuring a steady flow of sweet encouragement as he used Holmes's mouth to the limits of his stolen breaths.

He held Holmes there, as he came, and hot tears burst their limits, running down Holmes's face from the unrelenting pressure against the back of his tongue. He was able to swallow, painfully bringing more tears, when the fingers squeezing the nape of his neck finally released him to fall back on his heels. Holmes leaned over with his face to the ground by Watson's feet, coughing and gagging. 

"Holmes?" Watson's tone was concerned as he lowered himself to his knees in the small space between Holmes and the side of the desk. He rubbed his cuff and sleeve over Holmes's mouth and face. Dry fingers feathered over Holmes's face and neck. "Was that... Are you alright?" 

"Yes." Holmes pulled Watson's hands off his face. His entire body felt hot. "Please," he said.

Watson seemed to hesitate as Holmes pushed his hands away. He slid a steadying arm around Holmes's waist when Holmes leaned against him, breathing heavily against Watson's neck with his head on his shoulder. 

Watson's free hand moved from where he was feeling Holmes's racing pulse to the erection showing through his trousers where he touched him tentatively - Holmes cried out, his hips bucking into Watson's grazing palm. 

Watson gripped him like Holmes needed it, sucking and biting at Holmes's gasping lips as he leaned up to kiss him, his bared neck as he massaged him hard through his trousers, pulling him onward and upward. "Come on, Holmes," he said, forcing his hand into Holmes's unbuttoned trousers to grip him through his pants and rub his thumb through the soaked fabric around the head.

"Good boy," he remembered to say into Holmes's ear as Holmes was struck silent and breathless in his hands, Watson's palm squeezing strong and perfect around him as his body and mind twisted around his orgasm, draining away. He didn't ease off until Holmes's fingers curled blindly around Watson's wrist and he pulled, whimpering and shuddering as touch grew painful in the aftermath.

\----

They knelt. 

A hansom passed outside. Watson was still cupping Holmes in his trousers as Holmes relaxed against his chest - his weaker thigh started to throb with dull pain. Holmes reaction to this experiment had been unprecedented, not in the least because he had not moved from Watson's lap since they caught their breath or even squirmed. Watson felt disconcerted by his own reactions as well, but he was sure about one thing for the moment - that he was willing to hold Holmes there against the desk, in the dark, for as long as Holmes was content but hopefully not much longer.

Holmes sighed against his shoulder as a second cab broke their silence. Watson, sensing that he had returned to the present, opened his mouth to ask one of the many questions simmering in his chest now that the act was done, _was that enough?, are you alright?_. Before he could decide what to say Holmes began to gather himself, started pushing himself up from Watson's chest where he had been lying in trust that Watson would prevent them from falling over. 

Holmes's eyes met his and he looked tired, happy. Watson sighed through his nose and smiled at him. He rubbed his palm up Holmes's back as he leaned forward, dry lips pressing chastely against Watson's own.


End file.
